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I woke wondering

What should I do

I poured my coffee

And tied my shoes

I guess I will run

That is who I am

The beauty of the sunrise

My day begins again

Copyright ©️ CMM 2023

I know that if God decided to return me back to earth to be

he would decide to return me back within the sea.

There where life is motion, smell, wind and air

then among the seashells you will find me there.

I will be mystery of change within the sand;

you will hear me as the water reaches the land.

Across the waves haunting seagulls will sing

The symphony of sounds I will bring.

Safely on the grass, spotted on the beach,

you will see my human steps, the lessons they teach.

Teaching although for a moment gone by,

the sounds of the ocean you will hear my sigh.

It is now your turn to capture the essence of you.

to share this essence ; your purpose be true.

Deep within life’s cycle with yesterdays and me,

I see a familiar reflection within the sea.

As it will mirror the beauty of what is left to say,

and look no further than your own gifted way.

Leaving behind with you the love that is divine,

this love that will transcend beyond the shore of time.

“Sharing Poetic Expressions, Beauty, Sublime and Mysticism in Occidental Culture”

Chapter: Tuning Forks of the Soul, Christine McNeill-Matteson

copyrighted: ISBN 978-94-007-0759-7

DOI 10.1007/978-94007-0760-3

Springer Dordrecht Heidelburg London New York

Sharing Poetic Expressions; Anna-Teresa Tymieniecka

You are the spring in my life.

Your words strong and bonding.

Gentle into the falling rain.

Soft sun strengthens the tulips

but just for a season in passing

they draw near to the heavens

knowing they are for a moment.

Love springs eternal

“I will still take your hand.”

CMM. copyrighted 2023

I jaunt in the morning moon

My thoughts are miles away

I give up way too soon

So I can start my day

But I will always be

Jaunting again tomorrow .

CMM ©️ 2023

Daughters of Daughters

The afternoon,

rain drizzling, reflecting on glass.

fireplace gently glows.

Laughter covers the tears

echoing into the season

of the day.

Sponging into hopes

Daughters of daughters

Knowing without saying

Picking up the spoon

Offering a portion

It is at the table.

3 generations of women

Daughters of daughters

Draw strength.

Christine McNeill-Matteson

The saints woke,

Walking to their place of meditation

They lift their heads and kneel.

Remembering the prayers of the faithful

Their voices go to the ears of angels.

And ride the wings into the heavens. 

Where miracles abide and worries subside

The dance of the prayers of the saints.

Christine McNeill-Matteson

copyrighted 2023

WAKING

I hope I will always wake in tulip sunshine

among the fragrance of green grass

growing near flowing rivers

while breakfast sizzles in

cast iron skillets

with biscuits

on cobalt

blue

plates.

If this

goes away

in my memory

and leaves me for

another day in changed

places, I want to still wake

in tulip sunrise and still smell

the coffee brew to another time but let

not the reciting bobwhites forget to sound; so I will always remember.

copyright: CMM 2005

Hi, my name is Snuggles. I am best friends with a little girl named Aurora Leigh. You might think I am talking about “Aurora Leigh,” the long prose written by Elizabeth Browning. If you were, you were wrong, she was named by her Mother and remembering Elizabeth Browning’s work.

Anyway , this is not about her, but about ‘Snuggles, traveling companion and confident. I met Aurora Leigh just shortly after she was born, and we have been close ever since.

So, stay tune, there are a lot of adventures I want to share. We will be back.

Artist: Christine McNeill Matteson

Celtic Green

If you are looking for gossip, 

You have come to the wrong field.

We stand among the grass

The goats are quiet and  still.

Gray and blue sky hangs just above.

A Celtic Mom and her daughter share love

Wisdom between them comes from the strife.

They bring generations of Maternal life.

Around them their ancestry stops to listen

The children although playing still pay attention.

The women before them flow through their veins 

It is why they are , who they became.

Copyrighted:  CMM.